


Five Stages

by Casloveshisfreckles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anyways, Dean's grief, Destiel - Freeform, It's Cas' so its not really a surprise, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, This Is Sad, is it?, season 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 02:52:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12739512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casloveshisfreckles/pseuds/Casloveshisfreckles
Summary: Cas is gone.How is Dean going to handle it this time?A mirror of episodes 1-5 of Season 13 and Dean Winchester's stages of grief.





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> What I really need to do is stop vocalizing fic ideas to Fan because then she makes me write them. We were watching the new episodes and I said... hey.... what if... five episodes... five stages of grief... HMMMM. And then the inevitable - YOU NEED TO WRITE THIS FRECKS! 
> 
> Moral of the story, I'm a sucker for curly hair and glasses. 
> 
> Anyways, sorry for the pain!

This can’t be happening again. Before, when he watched that reaper bitch slide an angel blade into Cas’ chest, Dean thought about asking her to kill him too. The smooth, silver blade pierced Cas’ skin for months after that, the same nightmare haunting him every time he closed his eyes. 

Dean thinks it must be a dream, watching the tip of Cas’ blade appear out of his chest. His eternal light blinds, beautiful in its release. It makes Dean sick. He’s seen angels die, seen their wings turn to ash where they lie. But this is Cas. This isn’t supposed to happen again.

The ground is hard under his knees and everything is quiet, eerie almost. Empty.  He stays by Cas and waits. Because someone will come. Chuck, maybe. Amara. Another angel that can bring him back. Dean waits, one hand a fist in his lap, the other clenching the edge of Cas’ trenchcoat.

It’s getting dirty and Cas hates doing laundry; a human thing he was never fond of. Dean always has to nag Cas into staying at the bunker for a few days so he can at least wash his suit and coat. 

Cas will grump around for a day or two in Dean’s black sweats, an old band shirt, and his grey hoodie, complaining about being idle, and Dean will get him to relax by settling them on his bed for a few hours. 

When they get back home, together, in one piece, he’ll fire up Netflix and tempt Cas into watching  _ Stranger Things _ . In fact, Dean’s  going to keep them home for awhile, no jobs, nothing. If Sam thinks their mom is alive, he can figure it out.  He can deal with the kid too. 

He feels heavy, remembering the kid. He tries to stand but his legs are unable to support the weight of all that is expected of him. It feels heavier, now. How much of that weight has Cas helped him carry? 

No. No, he ’s going to deal with the spawn of Satan and then he ’s going to come back and Cas will be awake by then.  

He isn’t. 

When Dean wakes, the sun is shining and everything hurts and the damn kid  is gone . Sam wants to go, but there’s no way in hell he’s leaving Cas outside for another second. Sam is smart enough to stay upstairs because what needs to  be done is Dean’s responsibility. All of this is his fault.

It always is. 

Cas is as light as a bird when Dean carries him into the house. Dean misses his warmth, hopes the sheet around him gives some of it back. He sits at the head of the table, and refuses to pull the sheet over Cas’ face.  Dean  stares, he already misses Cas’ blue eyes staring back.  He brushes dust from Cas’ shoulders, that grey dirt from wherever the fuck they were, a scowl on his face.  He runs his fingers through Cas’ hair and something cracks in his chest.

He shouldn’t have waited. 

He thought they had more time.

Cas promised. 

A hand presses to his shoulder and he lifts his head from the crook of Cas’ neck. Cas still smells like sunshine.

Sam makes him leave but he promises Cas he’ll be back. 

*

His prayers go unanswered. His begging does too. 

Dean is numb when he  makes the decision . What’s the point, really ? What’s the point of anything, now that Cas  is gone ? 

Wrapping him in the yellow curtains feels right. Cas is yellow, his sunshine, the only light he ever saw. Yellow means honor, loyalty, happiness. Everything Cas is to him. To the world. 

Dean touches Cas’ cheek once, twice. A tear splashes on Cas’ forehead and he wipes it away, says he’s sorry, prays that Cas will forgive him. 

He’ll never forgive himself. 

He throws the lighter into the pyre, stares at the flames and thinks about laying down next to Cas. Sam would stop him. 

It doesn’t matter.

Nothing else matters. 


	2. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Season 13 Episode 2 - The Rising Son

Dean wants to keep driving. He’s anxious to put as many miles between them and North Cove as he can. Dean can’t think of that place anymore, knowing he failed Cas there. He stood and watched until the embers went cold, welcoming the pain as punishment for letting Cas die. For losing them all. His hands shook as he scooped ash into a glass flask. Cas was coming home with him, one way or another. 

Anytime Sam says Cas’ name, Dean flinches and itches to punch something. Instead, he wraps his fingers around the flask in his pocket and chokes back a scream. He wants Sam to shut the hell up already, let him drive in silence, let him be alone with his dark thoughts. It’s the reason Sam won’t close his mouth. 

Instead of shutting Sam up with his fist, he finds the next shitty motel in the next shitty town and rents them a room. He’d rather sleep in the Impala but Sam isn’t having it. Dean’s about sick of his mothering but until he can get them back to the bunker, he swallows down all the words he’d really like to say. 

The weight of responsibility makes his blood boil. He shouldn’t be teaching this kid about God, about Lucifer, about fucking life. They should be figuring out how to kill it and now they’ve got a prophet to deal with and Dean is done. 

He isn’t surprised when the tattoos don’t work and he’s fucking tired of arguing with Sam. When the kid disappears, he’s relieved, but it’s dashed by the look on Sam’s face, disappointment warring with concern. He wants to put his fist through the wall. This is his fault. Sam thinks so, too. 

He’s not wrong. 

The world would burn eventually because of him and they were stupid to think getting rid of the Mark would change that. Dean is poison, always has been. 

A sliver of peace comes in the form of a glass of whiskey but even then it’s not satisfying. What’s worse is when he turns his phone on for the first time since—for the first time in days and there’s an old text alert from Cas. It takes everything he has not to break his phone in half. He reads the messages, going back at least a year. Things have been shit for a while but Cas would always send him weird things he found online and once he discovered how to send gifs, that was it. Dean has an inbox full of them. 

Dean stops himself from deleting the whole thread. 

He’s so fucking angry. He’s angry at Cas for putting them in this situation, for being so fucking stubborn, for not letting Dean handle it. For not listening. For not trusting him. God, why didn’t he just trust him? They could have figured this out together. Maybe by the end, Cas finally figured out that Dean makes things worse before he makes them better. Maybe that’s why he didn’t let Dean help. 

Shame he figured it out too late.

A demon and yet another Prince of Hell is a distraction and goddamn it, can he get one fucking second to breathe? At least action helps him forget, even if it's just in fleeting moments. He clings to their task, because this he can do. 

This is what Dean is good at. 

Being home doesn’t help like he thought it would; he sees Cas at every turn. That stupid fucking Continental is still in the garage. Dean covers it with a sheet and moves his Baby outside so he doesn’t have to look at it. He ignores the layer of dirt on her and goes inside.

When he finds Jack stabbing himself in the chest, Dean doesn’t  _ want _ to give a damn. It doesn’t matter either way; he’ll be the one to kill him when the time comes—and it’s coming. Dean feels it in his bones. 


	3. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Season 13 Episode 3 - Patience

Dean locks himself away. Away from Sam, from the kid, from all the bullshit. He only comes out when he finishes the last of the sixer he was drinking, keeping his head down as he passes Sam in the hall. 

He could probably use Sam’s help but the last thing he wants to do is ask. A part of him knows it’s futile, knows he’s just wasting his time. But a small, hot ember of hope flares every time Cas crosses his mind. 

_ What if. _

What if he was too hasty in burning him? What if he could get him back? He uses all his resources looking for instances where someone burned and came back. He can only think of one. 

God and his sister didn’t answer him before; he can’t rely on anything. For all their talk of how important he is to this world, it sure is quiet when he tries to call in a favor. He should have known it was all bullshit. 

When Sam mentions Missouri called, the hope burns again. He packs his duffle and wraps the vial of ash in one of Cas’ dress shirts left behind. Missouri’s powers are based on touch. He has to try.

Jody’s hug is a like a bandaid over a bullet hole and Dean wishes it helped more. When Missouri asks him to save her family, he wants to laugh. He can’t even save his own family. No one should be asking him for help.

Dean stops her before they part ways, hesitating, the  _ what if _ on the tip of his tongue. Before he can pull out Cas’ shirt, Missouri stops him, confirms that she knows what he’s about to ask her. 

“I don’t need that shirt you brought, those ashes either.”

She presses her palm to his chest, her eyes sad. She tells him what he already knew. There’s nothing he can do. 

They fight. They win. Dean gets no satisfaction from it. 

When it looks like Patience wants to jump into the life, he hopes that his discouragement is enough to make her see; this life is no good. It gives back nothing. 

He doesn’t listen in on Jody, doesn’t speak when he takes her back to her truck. The radio stays off as he heads back to the bunker.

Dean should have kept driving. 

He shouldn’t have to remind Sam why he doesn’t trust Jack, why he can’t even look at him. There is nothing he could do for Dean, nothing him or Sam can say because Cas is gone and Dean can’t get him back. He knows that now.

The fire inside him is out. 


	4. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Season 13 Episode 4 - The Big Empty

It’s dark inside Dean’s head. It doesn’t seem to matter what he says, what he does because Sam still insists on doing whatever the fuck he wants when it comes to the kid. Dean is over it. 

Sam wants them to hunt together? Fine, whatever. Dean makes it clear he’s not interested in the kid’s hunter education but if Sam can’t keep him in line, what the fuck is Dean supposed to do? Kid will get them all killed before he can burn the world down.

Then again, that’d be better than having a front row seat, if Dean thinks about it. 

Dean would laugh when Sam starts in on him during their “family therapy”, if he actually found anything funny anymore. All he’s wanted, all he’s asked for since fucking North Cove is to be left alone. But Sam, all he’s done is push and poke so how can he be so surprised when Dean snaps? 

Sam has every right to be mad at him. Dean’s glad he’s finally catching on. 

He’s handcuffed to the fireplace and staring down the barrel of a gun and he feels empty. It’s not until that gun is pointed at Sam that he considers that maybe this could have gone differently if he’d only tried harder, done what Sam asked. 

If it wasn’t for Jack, his brother would be dead too. He considers this the entire drive back to the bunker. Maybe Sam was right, maybe—Dean doesn’t want to consider that it’s even possible that Jack is good, or can be good, or that he even gets to choose. He’s responsive, not preventative, and that’s a problem. 

What would Cas do? 

Thinking of Cas makes the pressure behind his eyes build, makes his head ache, the pain sharp in his temples. He rubs at his eyes, attempts to push away the thought of him. 

Cas would apologize. Cas would try. 

Dean tells Jack the truth, he did do a good job. He should know it. 

He apologizes to Sam. When Sam considers that maybe Dean was right about their mom, fear seizes Dean. He knows he has to come clean. It’s the only way. 

Dean feels like his whole body is a raw nerve when he confesses that he doesn’t believe in anything. 

Honesty. It’s what Cas would have wanted.


	5. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Season 13 Episode 5 - Advanced Thanatology

“Hello, Dean.” 

He sits straight up in bed, sweat dripping into his eyes. Dean can’t catch his breath and his eyes refuse to focus in the dark. He swipes at his face, feels the weight of his headphones fall to his lap. They must have slipped off as he slept. 

Dean curses. He dreamed of Cas every night until he realized that falling asleep to music blocked out even the darkest nightmares. He slips his headphones back on and lays back, hoping Steppenwolf drowns Cas’ voice out for the rest of the night.

It doesn’t work.

He gives up the fight, showers, and decides that peanut butter and jelly would be good for breakfast. It even works with coffee. He’s on his third cup and second sandwich when Sam joins him. He wants them to hunt, just the two of them; he even mentions it being like old times. 

Who the fuck wants to go back there? 

Dean agrees because what else is there to do? He doesn't really want to be near Jack; sometimes he tilts his head in such a way that—Dean can't let himself think about it. 

The regret comes fast because Sam won't stop being… weird. Dean doesn't like it. He knows his own coping mechanisms but the thought of doing anything aside from drinking is—exhausting. 

No. The thought of doing anything besides working with Sam is what’s exhausting. Because at least while they work, he can't press Dean to talk about his  _ feelings _ . How do you tell your baby brother you don't feel anything? 

Sam might commit him if he knew. 

Maybe he should. And wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake? Dean Winchester in the nut house. The universe is funny like that. 

The strip club is a blur but considering the hangover he has the next morning, he must have had some fun. Too bad he can’t remember. Too bad it didn’t make the stone in his stomach any less heavy.

Later, when faced with the decision to visit the veil, it’s an easy one to make. The syringes have been at the bottom of his go bag for seven years and he doesn’t hesitate to use them. Doesn’t even think twice about it. 

Dean didn’t expect Billie and hearing of her  _ promotion  _ has him reeling. When he goes with her, willingly, when he doesn’t fight for anything other than freedom for those souls, he can almost see the instant when surprise crosses her face before she manages to hide it. 

It’s only when she starts speaking frankly, telling him things about himself he’s been pushing away, practically repeating his own dark thoughts back to him that he wishes they could just be done with this. He tells her as much, letting her know it’s time to just get this over with already. If he’s done, he’s done. He’s dead weight on earth, so why not let Billie just throw him into the Empty like she’s been itching to do for years? 

Maybe he can find Cas there. Maybe not, and maybe it won’t even matter by then. 

When she sends him back with yet  _ another  _ hint at the bigger picture and his meaning in all of it, he’s tired. Dean’s tired of all these fucking cosmic entities telling him he has a job to do, like he hasn’t given over everything inside him, like he hasn’t lost every person he’s ever loved at one time or another to the universe. 

What the fuck has this world ever given back to him?

Dean can’t face the grieving mother. He can’t even look at himself in the mirror, how is he supposed to help her? He’s the one who let her son die. He doesn’t want to face Sam either and when Sam asks him if he’s ok, an honest answer leaves his lips before he can stop himself. 

He’s not ok. He doesn’t know if he will ever be ok again. He’ll do the job, he’ll go through the motions, hell, he’ll even play along with Jack but damn if he doesn’t feel the failure that is his life settling in his bones. 

He drives and lets the sound of Baby’s wheels on the asphalt soothe him. It’s the only constant thing in his life and he clings to it. 

His phone rings. 

His heart stops. 

He flips a u-turn in the middle of US-36 and doesn’t stop driving until he reaches the payphone. 

Dean can’t believe his eyes. 

This can’t be happening.

This can’t be real. 

The man turns, and blue eyes Dean’s only seen in his dreams meet his. 

Maybe it’s not too late to start all over again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](https://casloveshisfreckles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
